


without hesitation

by MajorGodComplex



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Damien gets Fucked Up, LOTS OF SPOILERS, Mind Games, Spoilers, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 18:04:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11606016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorGodComplex/pseuds/MajorGodComplex
Summary: He'd never actually considered his power a curse. Not until now. Now, for the first time in his life, Damien apparently really, truly, desperately wanted to get exactly what he deserved, and what he deserved was to get the living hell beat out of him. Wadsworth was only too happy to comply.





	without hesitation

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all I wrote this at 1am the night before ep 39 dropped, so imagine my surprise when the next day Damien takes Ddam hostage and then gets the shit beat out of him.
> 
> So anyway, here's my fic where Damien takes Adam hostage and then gets the shit beat out of him. 
> 
> (i had no idea what i was doing when i wrote this so if you see something and think 'does that fit with canon?' just lie, say yes, and roll with it)

Sometimes getting what you want can be the most terrifying thing of all. 

Damien had never viewed his power as a curse, not really. Sure, spending his entire life having everyone else give him exactly what he wants without hesitation is more taxing than he could have dreamed of, but it also has it’s upsides.  

When he was 13 he told his parents he wanted to be left alone. They got in their car, drove away, and never came back. He knew they had to have been relieved, so he didn't want them back anyway. Right? He'd never had a genuine relationship in his life because no one had any choice in being with him. He found he could force people to be his friend, but no matter how hard he tried he  _ couldn't  _ force _ anyone  _ to have genuine feelings for him. But that was fine too, because...because... 

And anyway, the weeks he spent without his power were honestly the worst weeks of his life. If he had such a bad time without it, it couldn't be a curse, right? No, even though he's entertained the thought once or twice or sixteen times (many times at  _ Dr. B's _ suggestion), he'd never actually considered his power a curse. 

Not until now. Now, for the first time in his life, Damien apparently really, truly, desperately  _ wanted _ to get exactly what he deserved, and what he deserved was to get the living hell beat out of him. Wadsworth was only too happy to comply. 

"How do you feel, Robert?" 

"Just fucking fantastic,” He spit out, lifting his head up to look at her as his hair fell in front of his face, sticking to the skin. His eyes were swollen and bruised, and the rest of his face wasn’t looking too great either. Really, he was in no position for snark and he knew it. Still...

"You know,” Wadsworth replied, “they say that sarcasm is the absolute lowest form of wit. I expected a little better from you."

"What can I say?" He smirked, "I'm just catering to my audience." 

Wadsworth pursed her lips, clearly unamused. "Enough pleasantries," she said, "let's get started, shall we?" 

She walked slowly toward where Damien was tied up in the center of the room, her heels clacking on the floor with every step in a way that grated on Damien's last nerve. She reached out her hand, ghosting them over first one, then another weapon. It took all of Damien's concentration not to flinch at her every movement in anticipation for what was to come. He still had his pride, after all. 

Her voice was cold and slow and filled with quiet, simmering rage. "I told you what would happen if you came anywhere near my family. I told you you should have been a good little boy and come with us quietly. You could have worked with us. We could have done great things together, Robert."

"My name," he muttered through clenched teeth, "is Damien."

She laughed, mocking him. "No it's not. You'll soon realize your childish little pseudonym means nothing in here." 

He turned his head away, refusing to make eye contact, lest he betray any actual fear. "Annabelle, Annabelle, Annabelle. Isn't it petty getting this caught up on a small detail when you could go back to doing much more important things?" He asked in his usual low drawl, "Like beating the shit out of me." 

"I'm not calling you by your name to get under your skin as revenge, you know by now that I've got many other ways to achieve that." She smiled. "I'm calling you by your name so that you remember that even though I can feel your wants as clear as my own, I am in  _ no way _ bound by them." 

She circled him, an amateur fear tactic but one she knew by now was effective. She continued, "And speaking of feeling your wants..."

Before he even had time to blink, she picked up the knife that had been lying on the table just out of his reach and slashed his arm with it, drawing a strangled scream out of Damien’s mouth. It wasn’t the first time she’d used the knife on him, and his arms were littered with barely healed over cuts. Still, the blade was sharp enough despite it’s frequent use that it cut through his arm as if it were butter. As if it gave no resistance at all. 

"Isn't it a bit fucked up how badly you want to suffer?" Her voice was terrifyingly pleasant as Damien finally began to cough and gasp for breath. "I guess that just means even you know deep inside that you deserve to be punished for what you did to him."

He grit his teeth, refusing to respond let out any other sound in reaction to the pain after the initial scream. The room was silent after her statement, and Wadsworth was just staring down at him as he bled all over himself and the chair and the floor. She wasn’t just going to let him bleed out, was she? 

No, she never did before and she wouldn’t now. She wanted him alive, she always wants him alive. Just as he thought, she grabbed some cotton dressings to stop the bleeding until she was done with him. Then she’d send in a crew of medical professionals to patch him up so he’ll be a blank canvas for tomorrow. 

“Are you sorry yet for what you did to him?” She whispered into his ear, turning his blood cold. He should just say yes. He should beg her to forgive him. He knows that’s what she wants him to do, and in a way...in a way it’s what  _ he  _ wants to do as well. 

Maybe he would have begged for her forgiveness if she hadn’t just tried to  _ cut his fucking arm off _ . Instead, he spit at her. 

“That’s what I thought,” Her voice was flat as she picked up the iron bar that on the table alongside her other toys. She pulled it back and slammed it into his stomach, knocking the air out of him. He felt a familiar feeling rise into his throat, and he had just enough sense to lean to the side as the contents of his stomach were ejected out of him and onto the floor. She looked at it with disgust, then slammed it into him again, and again. He thought he could feel every nerve being hit, he could feel every blood vessel exploding, he could hear groans and cries being wrenched out of him. 

Finally, Wadsworth dropped the weapon and took a few steps back, clearly surprised at what she’d accomplished. 

She had been angry. Really,  _ really _ angry, and he didn’t need to be an empath to tell that she was becoming completely unhinged. A little part of him was satisfied that if he was going to lose himself, at least she would lose herself as well. Was he losing himself? He smiled up at her; a disgusting sight with his bloodied face and missing teeth. And she’d refucked up his already fucked up nose. Fucking fantastic. 

“It’s just so sick how much you’re enjoying this.” She shook her head, “It’s sick that you’re wanting me to do this.” 

He squeezed his eyes tight, trying to convince himself that she was lying about what she felt from him. She was gaslighting him. She was trying to get under his skin. He didn't want to suffer. He didn’t. He wasn’t some masochist. Yeah, he didn't mean to hurt Adam. He'd known all along his bark was worse than his bite and he hadn't gone  _ so _ far off the straight and narrow path that he would actually kill a little kid, but.... He'd only intended to use him as a hostage. He'd only intended to use him until he got what he wanted. Then he'd tripped up, made a few reckless mistakes in his haste. Then he'd been surrounded. Then he'd removed the safety. Then he put the gun to the head of a  _ kid _ . Then he got scared. Then he pulled the trigger. He shot a fucking  _ kid _ in front of half a dozen super powered witnesses. 

Who was he kidding? He deserved every second of this. 

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway this is by no stretch of the imagination the best thing I've ever written, nor was it even good, but I felt like my 1am wish fulfillment fic should at least be shared with the world for anyone else needing a little more of Damien getting the shit beat out of him.


End file.
